“Miss Ellicot!” Brendon echoed. Melusine tried to squash down, still trying to maintain her guard. No one had lived here since old man Remenham had died some eighteen months ago, for the heir, so it was rumoured, was a relative with property of his own. It was obvious that he had waited for her. The practice has been common for thousands of years. Her husband was drinking in the tavern with the other guests. They watched the chimpanzees in the new apes’ house, and admired the gentle humanity of their eyes—“so much more human than human beings”—and they watched the Agile Gibbon in the next apartment doing wonderful leaps and aerial somersaults. He saw her, dripping with rosy pearls, rise out of the lagoon in the dawn light: he saw her flashing to and fro among the coco palms in the moonshine: he saw her breasting the hurricane, her body as full of grace and beauty as the Winged Victory of the Louvre. “Etherialized monkey,” she said.
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